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Then the experiments started.
For months I just thought they were punishments. Cruel, abusive, undoubtedly illegal punishments. A twisted way for him to work out whatever anger he was carrying, picking on the weakest member of his family since Em was no longer around to look out for me. He cut off my access to the outside world early on, taking away my phone, putting controls on my computer, and forbidding me from touching the mail. I kept waiting for Em to come home and see what was happening, to get me out of here, but he never did.
The first set of holidays passed, then the second. Then a whole summer went by. I still have no idea where Em is or why he hasn’t returned for me. Sometimes I worry something bad happened to him, and other times I decide he’s forgotten about me or doesn’t care. But thoughts like those can make me spiral fast, so mostly I try to lock away my emotions and focus on getting through life one day at a time.
“I’ll be having a guest over tonight,” my father announces suddenly, and I turn my attention back to him.
“A guest?”
“Mr. Vessnick. Make sure you prepare something special for dinner, and I expect you to look the part.”
What part? I think to myself, though I already know the answer. The part of the pretty, submissive omega. A glorified show pony.
“Yes, sir.”
I keep myself together while my father finishes his breakfast, but as soon as he disappears to his office, I allow my knees to give out underneath me.
Mr. Vessnick is horrible. An alpha in his late forties my dad has invited over several times this past year. He describes the man as someone “interested in my development,” which I know is just code for him being a prospective buyer. How evil must you have to be to purchase an omega on the black market? We’re rare, but notsorare that most alphas don’t eventually find an omega to join their pack. All the men my father brings around seem to be packless, which is a sure sign everyone agrees they’re trash human beings.
I turn nineteen in a few months, and I think my father is getting more desperate. More and more often he’s been inviting alphas to watch hisexperimentson me, probably hoping that having an alpha around will help force my body into heat. I don’t know enough about my own biology to figure out his exact strategy, and it’s terrifying not knowing what to do to try and counteract his efforts other than stay out of my nest and keep my emotions shut down.
Last time Mr. Vessnick was here my father tied me up in only my underwear and beat me with his belt. In between his hits, the psycho alpha would come over and stroke me, petting the skin on my arms and stomach and rubbing against my breasts. He even scent-marked me a few times, and I literally threw up from the moldy smell pouring out of his glands.
It was terrifying, humiliating, and painful. And theexperimentskeep getting worse.
I don’t know what my father has planned for this evening, but I’m absolutely certain it can’t be anything good. A keen desperation spikes in me, telling me I have to escape. If only I knew how. All the doors and windows have electronic locks on them, and I don’t have any means of communication. I’ve thought through every scenario a million times, but as I push myself back off my knees, I vow to think of the millionth and one.
I don’t want to die in this house, but neither do I want to leave it sold off as a slave.
Seas fuerte, Espy, I tell myself.
I can do this.
* * *
The hours pass by too quickly,and despite my determination I’m yet to come up with a magical escape plan. I go through the motions of my day on autopilot, desperate to latch onto something, anything, that might get me out. The more minutes that tick away, the higher my panic builds.
Therearethe kitchen knives—a thought I’ve had before but ultimately shied away from. I’m not a violent person, and even living under this abuse it’s hard to imagine ever using one of those things with the intent to do harm. Not to mention, would I even be able to overpower more than one person? I might have a chance of winning a surprise attack, but at only five foot two and as starved as I’ve been it feels impossible to imagine taking down multiple men. Especially if there’s an alpha around. That’s not even including the fact that injuring—or, Gods forbid, killing—my father might be a dead end. Emotional trauma aside, all the locks are controlled from his phone, so what if I incapacitate him only to become trapped in my own home?
No puedes rendirte.I clench my jaw, forcing myself to think things through. The hours have flown by, and I’m currently in my room getting dressed for what’s sure to be a nightmare of a dinner.
Just because I can’t unlock the doors or windows doesn’t necessarily mean I can’t get outside. There must be something in here that will break glass, right? Even if it sets off an alarm and summons the police. Actually, that would be perfect, assuming my dad doesn’t have BFOS buddies on the force ... I could always make a run for it, sticking to the woods and not going to any neighbors. I’m not sure where I’d go, but if I could just make it into town, I’d surely be able to find somewhere public where someone would be able to help me contact my brother.
It feels crazy. And daunting. But a glance at the clock confirms I’ve run out of time.
My father is still in his office, so I race as silently as I can down the stairs and into the kitchen. The duck I prepared earlier is keeping warm in the oven and the space is spotless, showing no trace of all the hours I put into making the meal. Just as I’ve been trained.
I walk over to the block of knives.
Something too big doesn’t seem practical. Where would I put it, and how would I avoid cutting myself? But would something smaller be enough to defend myself? I start to lose my nerve as my mind floods with all the “what-ifs” and “hows” and “whens.”
The sound of tires coming up the long dirt track reaches my ears, and I know I need to act. Now.
I quickly grab one of the paring knives and rush back up to my room, where I tuck it safely under a pillow in my nest. I will use it tonight. I’ll make it through whatever torture my father has planned and then wait until he’s asleep. Then I’ll do what I have to do to ensure I make it out and that I won’t be followed. Not allowing myself to second-guess my decision, I hurry back downstairs to dutifully take up my position behind my father by the front door.
All I can do now is pray this night goes by quickly.
* * *
